Tsunamis
by thestarcrossed
Summary: A collection of one-shots about a girl giving up her heart too quickly to a boy who used to have only one thing in mind but when he swepts in like a tsunami, does our Tenten stand a chance? (( A crackship pairing; something different for the soul ))
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:** This pairing is out of the blue, I know. Tenten and Genma? Whaaa? I honestly didn't know how it would turn out. For all writing purposes, this is strictly a crackship pairing that came to me one day._

 _The title of these one-shots/short-stories is based off a Lang Leav poem. As always, I do not own Naruto or the characters - reviews are always welcomed! Please keep these in mind, I'll be posting several of them while I'm working on Fortnight and another work._

* * *

TSUNAMIS

 _Be careful about giving your heart too quickly_ , I was told.

 _Boys only have one thing on their minds,_ they cautioned.

I don't know if he truly loves me - how can I be sure?

I can't say with any conviction that he won't break my heart - but how could I have stopped him from taking what was already his?

He swept in like a tsunami, wave after wave, and I didn't stand a chance.

All those warnings, all the things they tried to prepare me for - lost in an instant - to the enormity of what I felt.

( Lang Leav )

* * *

As she sits at his kitchen table, he can't think of anything else so pretty. The cascade of chocolate brown tresses hung down in waves, a trait passed down from those two buns, and disappeared below the chair's back while a free hand twirled strands absentmindedly. He knows that if she is to look up, he'd be lost among the dark gray of stormy eyes and she'd smile softly, asking why he stared at her that way.

Applications are fanned out, piled in different directions and spread across the table. With a pen in hand, Tenten wraps herself up in her work. Names, date of births, ages, chakra natures and Jutsus; they were listed, grouped together and separated. Her hand lifts from the surface, rubbing her index over her dark circled eye.

"I was thinking," He broke the silence, head back as his tongue slid his senbon to the opposite corner of his mouth, "we could.. uh.. if you're a needing a break.. go out.. for a breather?"

In his slump, he closes his eyes. Not wanting to tell on himself for peeking at her beauty.

His voice breaks the shell of work that enveloped her. Slowly, she tears herself away from registering another genin and focuses on Genma. Had she heard him correctly? He wanted to go out? With her? Until now, she was under the assumption that they weren't anything exclusive. Hell, she didn't think they ever were.

It had been exactly 4 and a half weeks since he had invited her over. One thing had led to another - if she recalls correctly - of him tracing words of passion into her secret place while exploring with those dipping fingers while she tried to crawl off his kitchen counter while struggling to take rapid gasps of air as he smugly laughed against the silky softness of her inner thigh. He was a devil and try as she might, she fell for his line.. Hook and sinker.

At the reminisce, a hot pink blush floods across her cheeks.

"You? Want to go out?" Her tone suggesting that natural non-belief.

Cracking open an eye, he watches her. Shrugging. "No. Not you." He smirked, "Yes, you.. who else is here?"

His hand lifts, presenting the empty living room and conjoined kitchen to her. It was just them. No one else.

Her eyes narrowed at his sarcasm. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself, could he?


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you drunk?"

The question had more laughing curiosity than genuine concern. Dark gray eyes peering up beneath a fall of long, black lashes; twinkling with the playfulness that only she was made of.

If she could see herself, he thought.

"Ah.." Lips were smacked. Since when did his mouth get so dry?

"May..be. A lil' bit," He said, his head lolling from one side to the other. It was as if everything got so warm and heavy.

"I see." She was laughing! Soft and all-knowing. Her expectancy had coursed another path but it still lead her to the same place.

"The Hokage's order!" Without much thinking, as if it worked on it's own, his arm shot up and grasped the blue bandanna by it's Shinobi plate. In a flash, unruly brown hair was ruffled and unleashed.

It was a sudden press of inner thighs clasped against his hips, a scantily clad sex warming over the zipper of his pants. Feminine arms lazily looping about broad shoulders and fingertips sliding up the exposed flesh of his neck.

"Oh?" Her eyebrow raised, curiously peaking. One hand raking itself through the thicket of his hair, "Tell me again.. what was those orders? To come home drunk.. before fucking me senseless in this chair?"

To say it wasn't a whirlwind would be a shame.. Genma had never been so happy to be drunk before..


	3. Chapter 3 (The Regular)

**Author's Note:** _The Regular and Hypnotic were originally meant for a modern Miami story. However, I felt the need to change it and reword it. Genma is the mysterious man who requests her night after night. He's a criminal and she's his ex-employer's daughter. I figured I'd get that out of the way. These two chapters weren't going to be apart of Tsunamis but I couldn't help myself. There might be a part 3, or hell, part 4.. it simply depends on it._

* * *

It began as a job. Not any normal job but the type of job that you changed everything about you and when the lights went low, you began to peel back layers and you exposed yourself for your worth. Another pretty face that got lost in the crowd of people. You couldn't stand out, you blended in. You took that job and sucked it into your being and became that other personality that you created. You were no longer that sweet and innocent little girl that your ungrateful father should have raised, to have that simple knowledge of weapons and combat, no, you had matured and you knew it. Night after night, you sold your soul to devils – devils who promised the world but never delivered. With their calloused palms and fingertips that always seemed to try and reach through the wall of glass that protected you. It was disgusting work but in the end, she did it anyway.

Boy, would her mother be pissed to know where all those ballet lessons had gotten her daughter. The pivot stance did nothing but helped her collect ones, fives, tens and twenties. She didn't want the attention of those men who came night, after night, asking her to 'entertain' them from the seclusion of her little glass box. She never looked at them; their manly hands pushing them ruffle of bills through the metal slot in the middle of her invisible wall. It had become a habit – to watch her feet. Point-heel-turn-dip-hip sway, on and on, it went. Why had she even agreed to come to this place? She had left the safety net of her own wealth and had ended up in another broke down fucking back ass town; forever nursing that broken heart.

Some told her to get over it. Some told her that her mind-set was fucked. Others told her to dance to her heart's content. Whatever she decided wouldn't bring him to her or anywhere around her. Leaving Miami had been a huge but ill-fated step. Even now, as she stood on the other side of that metal door, Tenten pressed a thick hip into the threshold. Slender fingers slid expertly through the fold of paper, dark gray eyes sharp and focused. Her thoughts were lost to the wind when the light above her head went off, flashing red. It seemed like the evenings went on and on.

You should pick up and move.. why are you running? Who are you running from? What are you running to? Tentennn..

She let a hiss out. Ringlets of dark brown and caramel tinted strands flopped as she jerked her head in the direction of someone calling out her name. How she became a dancer in this place was still a fuckin' mystery.

"I fuckin' know, Tony! Goddamn, you don't have to remind me. I see that the light is on." She flicked her index upwards as she eyed the backroom's manager, Tony. Now, he wasn't a big man, by any means but she saw him handle his own once. Nothing like what her father used to do. But then again, no one was like her father, now was they? Cocky and arrogant, possibly stupid. Thankfully, she wasn't raised by him but by another one of her mother's husbands, the one she was grateful enough to call Dad and if Daddy knew what his little girl was doing…

The shorter man came quickly, flashing and waving his hand, here and there to the women who actually liked the little fuck. Tony wasn't slender but he was built. What he lacked in height, he made up for in the weight department – mainly his arms. He looked oddly made. A Ken doll that never got his long-tanned legs and only the puffed-out chest. He ran a hand over the oil-slick that he called hair and Tenten gave a small frown of disgust. She was certain that you could cook an egg on the top of his head but she never had the heart to tell him. So instead, she offered her best forced smile that she could give. She had, too. Being smaller than he was, she had to watch his hands. No, Tony had never hit her but he tried once; only to be knocked back on his ass by the five foot even female, to which he kept his distance.

"He asked for you." He whispered as he closed the gap between them.

"Who? Who asked for me? No one knows me." She spat back. It was against the rules for any customer to know a dancer's name. The money that she had held onto was quickly shoved into her purse that she kept near her iron door – she wasn't about to pay no fine for being requested, fuck that.

"The motherfucker asked for you." He repeated.

"Okay? And your fuckin' point?"

"Your goddamn mouth about to get slapped off of your face if you don't tell me why that man in your booth is requesting you! We don't do requests." Two of his fingers jabbed quick and hard into the valley between her breasts. It was enough to send her wincing, her own arm shooting up to snatch his wrist within her hand.

"I'll-tell-you-again… No-one-knows-me." Her teeth were clenched. Words rough.

A collective hush fell over the back. Girls in their costumes stopping, pausing and watching. It didn't matter if they watched her knocked his block off or not.

This wasn't the time or the place to be letting her anger get the best of her. The light above her head a lit with its flashing red, flickering like an impatient heartbeat. Feminine digits began to unwrapped themselves, loosening from Tony's wrist but never letting go as she collected her rage and began to pack it back behind her proudly built emotional walls. She didn't know who the fuck would have requested her in a place like this unless it was her Tuesday Midnight.

Tuesday Midnight was the only customer that she had, that was regular. He came every Tuesday and hid behind the blackout glass of his half of the compartment. He didn't talk to her like the others tried to do. He simply paid for dance after dance from dusk to dawn. Others knew not to ask for her on that night. Things tended to get ugly if she was open for Tuesday's business. But it wasn't Tuesday.

"If he requested me, it's possible that he picked a girl's name off the board and went with it. It isn't like my name isn't on the list of dancers," She tried to have some logic to behind why some stranger would prance into Sinful and openly ask for her.

Tony snatched his arm away from her loosened grasp, rubbing his wrist.

"Whatever… you better not let me find out that you've been talking up the patrons, Tenten. He seemed to know an awful lot about you." The weight of his beady little green eyes almost made her want to slam her bony knuckles right into his nose but she decided against her judgement and ended the conversation with a slight shrug of shoulders.

An awful lot about you…

The very sentence continued to ring and repeat in her head. Lithe framing turned slightly to the metal door guarding her from the iron box and that one glass wall. Storm colored eyes studied it, trying to get a feel for whoever was in the room on the other side of her damnation. She was so lost to her thoughts that she hadn't realized that Tony had backed away, with a curiosity aglow in those tiny rat eyes.

Straightening up her back, fingertips found themselves 'fluffing' those fleshy mounds that were concealed by nothing more but a slip fabric. Tonight's get-up spared nothing to the imagination of men. Off the shoulder camisole had been ripped and fitted against the swell of breasts while leaving her mid-riff and back exposed. Resting against the width of toned hips was the elastic band of mock 1970's basketball shorts – showcasing the muscular thighs that she possessed, along with the cut of calves, and tiny ankles. Caramel flesh sparkled from the light sheen of sweat. The spot where Tony shoved his fingers was bright red and angry looking but it was too late to cover that shit up now. What was she going to do? Stand forty-five minutes in front of her vanity mirror, trying to cover it up? Time is money.

Arms lifted gracefully, gathering up those spiraled tresses into her palms, artfully collecting them until they were a twisted bun upon the crown of her head. Oval shaped façade blanked of emotion – she learned that in the beginning to. Never show your heart ache on the dance floor – your audience could read it in your energy when you take that first step. There was no prep talk as she reached over and pressed the go button off to the side of the door.


	4. Chapter 4 ( Part 2 -- Hypnotic )

Music and dance have went hand and hand for as long as anybody could remember. While growing up, you went from tapes to CDs. Every emotion and feeling were poured into thoughts and powerful hidden messages that you assumed were inside of those songs. A favorite would come on and you'd lose yourself. Your body began to sway, your limbs began to move, your feet took to the floor and you were free. A beat was your savior. Your small body taking each vibration, the tips of your toes gliding the rest of you. You floated – You swam – You found yourself. Now more than ever. You tried to find yourself in a sea of songs and those secret meaning. Soon, song after song, bleed into a continuous dance for a pretty penny.

Tenten found herself in another song, silently lip-syncing to the lyrics as her body carried with the beat. Golden thighs were parted as far as they could go, the thick underside helping push the sway throughout her entire body; side to side, left, left, right, left. But none of that helped her shake the feeling that whoever was on the other side of that blacked out Plexiglass had their silent eyes on her. Who would have came into this place and request her? No one from her old life would have traveled so far. None of them would have. None of them knew.

Shoulders and barely clad breasts snapped back and forward with the beat of her song, hands firmly placed on the insides of thighs as she arched onto her slipper's box, satin ribbons tightening against the slenderness of each ankle. It seemed as if she never transitioned from chair to fully standing; the graceful movement of it brought that five foot stance up and onto the tips of her toes. Arms were suddenly over her head, a perfect pointe technique. Her whole body flexed, a single invisible string tugged the center of her upwards before releasing her. Right arm slung outward while the left re-positioned, fingertips dragging nails up the length of her arm from wrist to elbow before one movement slung her by the waist around the wide space of the chair she had ejected herself from. The motions were smooth and clean, timed down to the second, while feet tip-toed quickly recovered to keep pace with the rest of her.

From placement to the way those stray curls bounced with the breeze of motion, Tenten kept herself perfectly balanced. Nothing existed in the world but her and the sound of music. Ironic, huh? How a ballerina, such as herself, ended up dancing to something other than classical notes while removing bits and pieces of her clothing. Peeling away layer after layer until there wasn't nothing left but her. Sun-kissed flesh shimmering with it's sheer layer of sweat like her and that immortal beat were two beings who were lost. Continuously searching. Forever yearning.

The guy requested you.. how does he know you? Home burned to the ground a long time ago.. You're too curious, aren't you? Why would someone come in and request you? Did they request you by Tenten or by your stage name? No one in the fucking city knows who you are.. they don't need to.

Over and over, she twirled for that no-faced customer until her heart was racing as her mind filed through thoughts. She almost over did her pace when the music instantly shut off, bringing all of her to a complete stop. Lowering her arms down to her sides, that curl blessed cranium snapped towards the mirror. Eyes focused on the blackness of the glass. Her reflection made her breathe catch in her throat. Had it really been so long that she actually saw herself? Ridiculously wild, free with the gleam of her hard-work or of her illusion?

CLICK….

Nervously, eyes flicked from the center of the glass towards the camera in the far right corner; the second time that she paid any attention to it. The music had been paused; several minutes had passed before she even dared to acknowledge the two-way again. That click had sent an icy shiver up the length of her spine, for that was the sound of the microphone coming on, proving that this client had something up their sleeve. A trump of an Ace or maybe they wanted to listen to her talk. It wouldn't have been weird.. she had to read to one of her clients before he'd pay her a single cent.

A predator was out there and all she could think about was how many shoots it would take for that precious glass to shatter. Five. Exactly five. Why would she think of that first? Whomever it was, surely wasn't a psycho crazy, right? In the reflection, she caught herself – delicate features painted confusion, a lost of thought before she realized and jumped. Arms lifted slightly, hands catching on to the ramp of each thick hip. The next movement was an unraveling, like a cat who was uncurling except it was a roll from the center of her, outwards.

Still on the flats of her boxes, pointe shoes tightened their satin ribbons underneath the exertion of her weight, while she tiptoed to that middle mirror, while duplicates copied each step. She remembered thinking that the illusion was somewhat dizzying and then the two-way. A pair of dark eyes, almond-shaped with their naturally long lashes fluttered back at her, causing a collective gasp to release upon her step-up. Despite the plexiglass being within arms reach, it seemed closer. Her non-existing twin stared out at her.

"I bet you aren't even real.. he's got a real sick humor, Tony does. I wouldn't be surprised," Tenten breathed.

Her left arm raised, half bent before fingertips pecked the glass softly. She tapped it hard enough that upon pulling her hand away, the smug of lines, loops and ridges stood out against the bare, shiny surface with it's flecks of dust. What else was there to do? The music had stopped, the mic was on, what else was there to do but talk to whoever it was? To not say anything, was rude, right? In a swift flip, her palm laid against the cool surface, pressing down with enough ump that it nearly slid her. Maybe they'd open up to her if she pretended to be interested them. Or was it really a ghost on the other side?


End file.
